


good luck charms

by canvases (orphan_account)



Series: touched by magic [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Fanatasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:41:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7219198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/canvases
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Shirabu is not entirely sure why Semi keeps tucking little good-luck charms in the pocket of his favourite jacket, but he keeps them all, anyway – a series of smooth stones, colorful feathers, miniature carvings out of marble and the like, all lined up by his window where they catch the light and scatter fractured rainbows across the dull walls.<br/></p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	good luck charms

 

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Shirabu calls put, making his way to the door after the fifth knock. He does this while buttoning his coat, chewing on the plastic straw of his juicebox and thinking, _I hate mornings._

“’Morning,” Kawanishi greets, looking nonchalant with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Ah, sorry if I was a bit late. Yamagata-san lost his phone again. We found it in one of the bathroom stalls.”

“Shocking,” Shirabu mutters, sipping on apple juice and shutting the door behind him.

“That’s rude,” Kawanishi comments half-heartedly. They walk in silence for some time, until he tilts his head to the side like he does when he remembers something. “Is Semi-san out this morning?”

Shirabu shrugs, hopping down the last step. “He wasn’t around when I woke up. Probably went on a run? I don’t know,” he pushes open the door, and they leave the building, “I don’t really care, either.”

Kawanishi presses his lips together in his version of a smile as a small gust of wind rushes past. “Alright,” he mutters, staring at the sidewalk and eyeing the blades of grass and occasional flower growing in the cracks along the gravel. The sky is overcast, the grey-tinged clouds blotting out the old-gold colour of the sun. “You think it’s going to rain today?”

“I don’t think so,” Shirabu murmurs around his straw, kicking at the pebbles scattered along like he does every morning, when he’s still somewhat asleep and too tired to do anything else. “It wasn’t on the forecast, at least, so there’s that.”

Kawanishi hums, stepping aside to let the cat with green eyes and oddly-patterned fur that they spot twice or thrice a week walk past, and it mewls softly as they carry on. “That’s good, then.”

A comfortable silence settles in the lull of conversation, and Shirabu actually really likes moments like these, those akin to the calming sensation of chamomile tea to soothe his aches and scrawling down his own potion recipes on his arm in fading blue ink between classes that explains topics that he knows all too well and dabbling with the unknown.

He doesn’t really think about anything in particular, other than spotting the tree with maroon leaves and peeling bark out of the corner of his eye, the same one they pass on a day-to-day basis to say that they were nearing the college they both attended, within fifteen or so minutes.

A car passes by, and maybe the driver is in a bit of a hurry because the leaves gathering at the base of the tree flutter slightly, crunching underneath his shoes when they scatter across the sidewalk.

“You look more tired than usual.”

Shirabu turns his head a bit to look at his friend, raising an eyebrow and idly tracing patterns onto his juice box with his index finger. “What do you mean, Taichi?”

“Hm…” Kawanishi purses his lips and tilts his chin up slightly, eyes flickering to the sky as if to count the clouds. “Ah, you have an Alchemy test, today, don’t you?”

He resists the urge to groan and wrinkle his nose slightly in distaste, his unconscious habit of brushing his fingers across the smattering of faint freckles at the base of his neck being the only sign of his annoyance. “It’s not that it’s going to be hard – ”

“Kenjirou, you’re such a nerd, only you would ever say that.”

“ – it’s just going to be _really long,_ ” Shirabu continues, pointedly ignoring the previous comment. “I haven’t studied on all the topics sufficiently, so I don’t know how well it will go.”

“Mm,” Kawanishi hums, pondering on his response. “I don’t really know, I’ve never taken half of your subjects before, considering that my major is more lax than yours.”

Shirabu says nothing in response to that, choosing to finish his apple juice and throw the empty carton into the trash can they pass by, the school coming into view. “What’s your first class?”

“Uh, Ancient Artifacts and…yeah. I don’t get the point of giving subjects long names.”

Shirabu chuckles, and allows the silence to settle again, his left hand in his pocket, almost raising his eyebrows when his fingers close around something rough –  _a flat stone? no, a seashell –_ with the barest of sparks of magic, and –  _oh, oh._

Shirabu is not entirely sure why Semi keeps tucking little good-luck charms in the pocket of his favourite jacket, but he keeps them all, anyway – a series of smooth stones, colorful feathers, miniature carvings out of marble and the like, all lined up by his window where they catch the light and scatter fractured rainbows across the dull walls.

Another thing to add to the collection, then.

 _I mentioned the test yesterday, literally once,_ he thinks, _I can’t believe he actually remembered._

Kawanishi glances at him, and does that thing when he eyes him with the faintest quirk at the corner of his lips and his eyebrows lifted slightly, the look he uses when he knows something that he doesn’t. “You’re smiling.”

Shirabu bites the inside of his cheek and glances away briefly, before pushing him in the direction of the campus.

“I am _not,_ ” he says, “let’s go, we’re going to be _late_.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a dreamcatcher hanging on his bedroom wall.

It’s a gift from his mother, meant to capture the nightmares that slip through the gaps between constellations in it’s net, as if he actually manages to sleep at night instead of simply covering his face with his hands and peeking in between the gaps of his fingers to stare at the odd patterns that the moonlight casts along his ceiling.

The test paper from several days ago flutters due to the air from his electric fan, plugged in at the corner of his room, a _B+_ scrawled in red ink at the top right corner, and his memories scatter across the air like thousands of stars across the night sky, perhaps not as beautiful, but as thought-provoking nonetheless.

Shirabu’s thoughts tend to range from ridiculous to philosophical, and he rolls over, legs tangling in the sheets to stare out the window and wait for the sun to rise and cast golden light across the good luck charms lined across the windowsill, since the magic in them can only last for a day, maybe less. No one has ever found a way to make them last longer.

He usually makes himself a special kind of tea, a recipe his grandmother taught him when she found out about his problem, but he’s out of moon essence and the shop that sells it is all the way in the city, and he hasn’t had the time.

There’s a soft knock on his door, and his eyebrows furrow. “Come in.”

The door creaks open and Semi steps in tentatively, a particular ray of moonlight shining, leaving a star-like shape on his cheek, a hesitant smile on his lips. “Hey.”

Shirabu sits up, feeling oddly vulnerable and schooling his face into an indifferent mask. “Can I help you with anything, Semi-san? It’s around midnight.”

He snorts quietly. “I know you don’t sleep,” he says, “and it’s only eleven thirty.”

Shirabu shifts on the bed, quirking an eyebrow and allowing his question to linger in the air.

Semi shakes his head, clearing his throat. “Ah, right, uh – do you want go outside with me? I don’t know, walk around or something? Shit, sorry. I can’t fucking sleep, it’s bothering me.”

Shirabu presses his lips together, murmuring a quiet, “Fine,” and getting up.

Later, when they’re dressed properly and tying their shoelaces, Semi says, “Do you really want to go? I don’t want to be a bother, you know.”

Shirabu is quiet for a few seconds, and maybe in another country, the sun sets when he speaks. “You’re not a bother, Semi-san,” he says, opening the door, “don’t worry about it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The lampposts don’t touch the sky, bent down and glowing yellow, and despite the city lights and towering skyscrapers, the stars twinkle shyly overheard, and Shirabu feels like if he just stands on his toes and reaches, his fingers would brush them.

It’s illogical, but he can’t help it.

Semi is quiet, and unusually so. Shirabu doesn’t bother thinking of a conversation topic, shoving his cold hands in the pockets of his jacket and glancing around.

“Left or right?”

Shirabu blinks and looks up at the fork in the roads. He’s walked past it, rode the bus and went through them, probably, but it feels so distinctly different and mildly unfamiliar in the dark curtain of the night, with the lampposts and stars as stage lights.

“It’s not like this is anything new, I’ve been here before,” he says to Semi, “and so have you.”

“It’s not the same at night,” he replies easily, taking a step. “Also, you hate going outside when there’s a lot of people, and it’s usually busy around here at day.”

“So I hate crowds,” Shirabu mutters, biting back a sigh and pointing at the more brightly-lit street, mostly because a car just drove out of the other. “Left.”

“Alright, then.”

They settle back into the silence – not the relaxed kind he and Kawanishi share, like Sunday mornings and sunshowers, but rather like what it is: walking down the roads in the night with, wondering what you could say but at the same time being unwilling to speak – and cross the empty street.

Shirabu knows that most people tend to have restless nights every now and then, but he can’t help but ask, more out of mild curiosity than anything. “Are you alright, Semi-san?”

Semi pauses for a second, before chuckling. “I’m fine. Just one of _those_ nights.”

“Of course,” he replies politely, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, “I understand.”

They lapse back into another kind of quiet: no longer slightly tense and awkward, and Shirabu feels oddly like the air is lighter, but for some reason, it doesn’t quite match up to the comfortable atmosphere they have developed back in their apartment in the many months they’ve lived together, with days of sitting on the couch and watching random documentaries and sipping on hot chocolate. Then again, this is not a part of routine, and Shirabu is not very good at slipping out of it.

They pass by several closed shops, but there are some convenience stores and a fast food chain with glowing neon signs and fluorescent lights still on, meaning they are open. There is a car or two that passes by, as well as a few people milling about, but they all mind their own business and keep walking.

This, Shirabu likes.

“Okay, forward or right?”

Shirabu presses his lips together, staring at the roads, the city lights shining in his eyes. “What’s up with this game?”

Semi chuckles. “Satori and I do it every now and then, when he drags me off in the middle of the night for ‘an adventure’ as he puts it.”

“Oh,” he says, “forwards.”

“Straight ahead it is, then.”

Shirabu asks, “Why did you ask me to come with you?”

Semi shrugs. “I don’t know. Why not?”

“I can think of several reasons,” he mutters under his breath, but it lacks any actual bite, so Semi just rolls his eyes and ignores the comment in favour of eyeing the charms on display in a dimly-lit shop, in neat rows by the foggy glass.

After a while of walking, Shirabu stares up at the moon, mostly hidden by the clouds, but beautiful nonetheless, just to distract himself from his thoughts. They take a right turn because there are no other options, but they both stop to stare at an open store wedged in between a closed tea shoppe and a retail store.

It’s a book shoppe that Shirabu has never seen before.

The light inside is sort of yellow, and there are rows and rows of books of varying lengths, on the shelves and gathering by the floors, and you can tell that most of them are old, gathering by the few open ones with yellowing pages.

“You want to go in?” Semi offers.

Shirabu’s lips twitch, hand already on the doorknob. “Don’t we both?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He flips through the pages delicately, somewhat afraid that they would tear.

Shirabu has never seen something like this before – a handwritten book of failed experiments and theories, of potions and charms that were taken out of fantasies and attempts to turn them into reality – and there was an unfamiliar kind of excitement bubbling in his chest at the endless possibilities.

“You found something?”

He looks up to see Semi, before shrugging one shoulder. “Yeah, but I don’t have my wallet. I’ll just come back – ”

Semi snorts, shaking his head. “Come on, I’ll pay for it.”

Shirabu frowns, eyebrows furrowing. “Semi-san, you don’t have to – ”

 The older boy rolls his eyes and pushes him gently in the direction of the counter, holding out several bills to him with a smile on his face. “You should be thankful I bring my wallet with me everywhere.”

“I – "

“I forget how stubborn you are,” Semi says, shaking his head in silent mirth, “ _Go_.”

Shirabu just sighs, because they’re both stubborn and he knows that he can’t say no, so he walks and slides the book over the wooden counter, the old lady manning the cash register smiling at him sweetly, eyes wrinkling around the corners.

“Ah, I like this one,” she says, “I didn’t think anyone would want it.”

“Why not?” Shirabu asks, handing over the slightly wrinkled dollar bills.

“People don’t really like the unknown, young man,” the old lady answers sagely, eyes shining like the sun, having watched the years passed and knowing too much, yet not enough. “You’re not like them, it seems. Would you like a receipt?”

Shirabu can’t help but smile. “Yes, please.”

She grins at him, handing him the paper and he mutters a _goodbye_ and she makes him promise to return. Shirabu finds Semi flipping through a book with hand-drawn pictures, and he looks up once he hears his footsteps, placing the book down along with the others.

“Did you know,” Semi says, as they exit the store, certainly not for the last time, “that someone wrote about a story where everything is the same, but magic doesn’t exist? The characters studied about healing people without potions and stuff like that. It was kinda weird.”

“Imagine living in a world like that,” Shirabu comments idly, kicking a stone onto the road.

“Uh, no thanks,” Semi says, but he’s smiling, if only a little, and a bit of laughter bubbles in Shirabu’s throat.

They’ve settled into another kind of silence – a much more comfortable one, as if they both realized that they don’t need words to connect, and that speaking too much could chase the stars away, anyway.

Shirabu glances over his shoulder, before turning around keeping the pace with Semi, the moon trailing behind them.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

> **TRIFOLIUM** **THEORIA**
> 
> _The very first good luck charms (in terms of magic) were actually four leaf clovers. However, the date of this discovery is unknown. People in the medieval times used to crush these clovers into a special draught and dip various items into it in order for the magic to last longer (about five to six hours) since once a four leaf clover is picked, the magic will only last for two and a half hours, at most._
> 
> _Nowadays, we use a variety of items (a fairy’s tear, dewdrops from a blue rose, etc.) in order to create a potion, that once any object is dipped into it for exactly an hour, will allow the owner’s luck to increase for an entire day._
> 
> _If my sources and experiments are correct, some good luck charms last longer than others. This is because, so it seems, some people need the luck more than others._
> 
> _No good luck charm has lasted longer than twenty-four hours. However, I whispered a tragedy while turning the potion counter-clockwise, gave it to a person in need, and it last for twenty-five hours and three minutes. This phenomenon is_

 

Shirabu’s thumb unconsciously brushes over the dog eared page after re-reading it for the third time, fighting a smile and trying to smother the excitement in his chest – a small spark, ready to burst and spiral in a flurry of colour like a firework.

He swallows and stops himself from standing up, trying to get rid of his impulsiveness. He plans his words, plays out the conversation in his head, makes sure to have an answer for everything, but –

He shakes his head and allows himself to shrug off the plan for once, opening his door faster than he normally would, facing Semi’s bedroom door without thinking, his knuckles already rapping against the wooden surface. “Semi-san?” He says, voice a tad quieter than normal.

The door flings open, revealing his roommate’s confused and mildly concerned face. Shirabu has never asked for him before, much less knocked on his bedroom door. “Yeah? Are you okay?”

He nods, schooling his face into what he hopes is a calm expression. “Read this, please,” he says, all but shoving the book in his arms at him.

Shirabu knows that all the good luck charms he’s been finding in his pockets for the past few months were sort-of an unspoken taboo topic between them, but he knows how much Semi loves his charms, how he prides in all the ones he creates with careful hands.

He also knows that good luck charms are his favourite of all of them, that he had so many of them and took them with him lots of places, slipping them into people’s bags, sometimes, if he feels like they need them.

He watches as Semi’s eyes grow wide as he bites his lip, looking up and a smile blossoming on his face. “This – you’ve got to be kidding me.”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m not, Semi-san.”

“You – well, shit, I – ” Shirabu would be lying if he says he isn’t finding this highly enjoyable, watching his tongue twist. “I need to try this. Do you mind if I borrow it?”

Shirabu presses his lips together, and a hint of shyness creeps into his otherwise calm voice as he says, “Actually, I was hoping we could do it together. I read through it, and the potion seems a tad complicated, and I like challenges.”

Shirabu would be lying if he says he doesn’t find the shock on his roommate’s face highly amusing, but Semi grins all the same. “Of course we can, Shirabu. You’re one of the best potion-makers I know.”

Shirabu rolls his eyes, “Don’t compliment me, it’s weird.”

  
(He’s smiling though, and that’s a start.)


End file.
